


Attitude Adjustment

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Hurts Castiel, Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Emotionally Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Gabriel is an ass, Gen, Guilty Dean Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 13:39:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15996344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Cas puts himself in danger to save him and Sam, Dean tries to get Cas to realise that risking himself is not okay.  But when Cas doesn't immediately come around, Dean loses his temper and things are said.Gabriel, listening in, suggests if Dean feels like Cas isn't getting it then he needs to reinforce the lesson and shows him a technique used on naughty fledglings.  Sure, Cas is a grown angel, but it'll get the message across.After, as Sam tries to deal with the fallout from that disastrous idea, he sets some new ground rules: mainly, that Dean will never, ever, ask Gabriel for advice on how to handle Cas.





	Attitude Adjustment

**Author's Note:**

> For a SPN Kink meme prompt.

Gabriel gave a low, mocking whistle as Castiel shouldered past him and disappeared down the corridor. “Are you two _fighting_?”

Dean grimaced at the sound of the archangel’s voice and turned to see him leaning against the wall, grinning at him.

“No. And it’d be none of your business if we were. What do you want, Gabriel?”

He wasn’t sorry that the angel had survived getting murdered, again, but letting them all think he hadn’t, _again_ , was starting to wear a little thin.

Cas had been really upset, taking to his room to grieve and Dean had struggled to keep the angel from slipping back into the depression that had dogged him for the past few years and only recently started to recede.

“Well, actually, I dropped by to see Sammy, but it looks like I’ve got more pressing matters to attend to, now. Baby bro acting up, huh.”

Gabriel disappeared from where he was standing, and reappeared in one of the chairs, ankles crossed and feet on the war table.

Dean crossed over and slapped them off, ignoring the way Gabriel rolled his eyes at him.

“He just…”. Dean caught himself before he could say too much. He was not offloading to Gabriel, of all people, and discussing Cas with his big brother felt kind of like a betrayal.

Gabriel snapped his fingers, and a chair pushed back next to Dean. “Trust me, Dean-o. Whatever he’s done this time, it won’t be the first. Kid nearly turned my feathers white when he was growing up. Take a load off and share.”

Dean studied Gabriel for a moment. A lot of what was going on with Cas could be tracked back to Heaven, and its screwed up way of raising angels. Cas had always been a rebel, Dean had learned, had always bucked the universal soldier thing they had going on, but he was still throwing himself under every bus that came along, especially if it was headed for him, Sam, Jack or Mary.

It was like Cas just couldn’t stop himself.

Maybe talking to somebody who’d been there when Cas was growing up, who’d helped him grow up, might help Dean figure out a way now to stop Cas being so damn ready to get hurt or killed for them.

“I can’t get through to him,” Dean said. He sat down, and looked quickly over his shoulder to make sure Cas hadn’t come back in.

Gabriel rapped the table to get his attention. “Relax. I’ll make sure he doesn’t hear us.”

That didn’t exactly make Dean feel any better, but he was doing this for Cas, so…

“He went after a group of warlocks,” Dean said. “They had me and Sam, and he knew they wanted him for some kind of spell, and he went after them anyway.”

Gabriel pursed his lips. “Annnndddd….”

Now it was Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “They were going to kill him. Cut him up as ingredients. He should have stayed away. Me and Sam would have gotten out.”

“Right. ‘Cos he’s never had to haul your balls out of the fire before.”

“Whose side are you on?” As soon as he’d said it, Dean wished he could bite his own tongue off. There was one side, here, Cas’s side. 

All Dean wanted was to keep him safe.

Gabriel chuckled. “Boy, he’s got your panties in a twist big time. Look, if I tell you this, then you don’t tell anybody else, not even Sam. Deal?”

If it helped Cas, Dean would swear it in blood. “Yeah, deal. What is it?”

Gabriel had slouched in his seat, but now he sat up, and leaned in, as if about to convey some dreadful secret.

“You need to cuff his wing.”

Dean stared at him for a moment. “Right. Okay, why the hell didn’t I think of that before now? What the fuck is ‘cuffing his wing’?”

“So impatient, kiddo. I’ll tell you. But this is a big deal, Dean, so you’ve got to make sure you do it right.”

He beckoned Dean closer.

++

Cas looked up when he heard the tentative knock at the door. He knew it was Dean, and he hesitated before answering; Dean could rarely let something go without feeling victorious, and sometimes Cas would yield just so they didn’t end up in an argument that would last until one of them got hurt and that seemed to settle things.

But today had been different; Dean had treated him like a child, an irresponsible fledgling who had behaved recklessly, without thought.

Cas had done nothing of the sort. He knew the risk to himself before he ventured into the Warlocks’ lair, and he had weighed up all his possible courses of action.

In the end, it had come down to the fact that he could not, would not, allow Dean and Sam to be in danger if he had a way to prevent it.

And he did; he’d used his own Enochian magic to deflect the worst spells the Warlocks had thrown at him. Some of the lesser curses had gotten through, and those had hurt, Cas wouldn't deny, but he had stopped the Warlocks, rescued the Winchesters, and they had all lived to tell the tale.

That hadn’t stopped Dean from launching a scathing attack on him when they got home, which Cas knew came from a place of worry and protectiveness, but that didn’t stop it making him feel hurt and belittled.

And...untrusted.

It seemed only Dean was allowed to make questionable choices that jeopardised his physical safety, and to do so without criticism.

When it was him…. He was, to quote Dean, ‘the stupidest son of a bitch’ he’d ever laid eyes on.

And at that point, Cas knew that he couldn’t take another word from Dean, and retreated to his room.

And now Dean was knocking, and then he was inching the door open and peeking around it.

“Can I come in?”

It seemed churlish to point out that he already had, so Cas simply nodded.

Dean came over to where he was sitting on the bed. “Look, about earlier. I didn’t handle that well, Cas, but you’ve got to understand: you can’t keep doing that, man.”

Cas shrugged at him. “Can’t keep doing what? Helping you both? Trying to keep you safe?”

“Risking yourself to do it.”

And there it was. Cas knew where Dean was coming from; he knew Dean’s fears, his need to keep his family safe and close. But even though he understood, it seemed to work only one way; Dean never seemed to consider how he and Sam felt when Dean was the one _risking_ himself, scaring them half to death, and forcing them to scrabble around desperately, looking for a way to save him.

Michael had been the latest in a long line of choices Dean had made that had almost torn him from them for good, and Cas knew at times he’d done the same, and he knew how that had made Dean feel because he felt the same when Dean did it to them.

But Dean didn’t seem able to empathise.

“And will you? You don’t seem to think what it’s like for me, for Sam, when you do the same.”

“Don’t drag Sam into this. And it isn’t about me.”

“It’s about all of us!” Cas hadn’t meant to yell, but he was still wounded over earlier, still trying to settle after they had managed to recover Dean from Michael, when it had seemed all hope was lost, and even Sam had been on the verge of giving up.

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders then, and hauled him to his feet. Cas startled, unexpecting, but then Dean’s arms were around him, pulling him in tight.

“You’re not going to listen, are you?”

Cas hugged him back, unable to help himself. He supposed he was still seeking proof that Dean had come back to them, that he was safe, and there was also something comforting about being held by Dean.

“I’m listening,” he said. “I just…. You can’t set rules for us that you won’t follow yourself.”

“Then I’m sorry about this, Cas, but…. You’ve got to learn.”

Puzzled, Cas started to pull away, but then Dean’s fingers were stroking firmly down his spine, and Cas felt a chill spread through him, because he’d never told any human how to do that, not even the Winchesters, and yet Dean _knew_.

A moment later, Cas’s wings were present, still tucked in, since he hadn’t summoned them himself, but that didn’t stop Dean.

He dug his fingers into the right wing, using his other arm to keep Cas against him, and said, “I really am sorry, Cas.”

Then he tugged at it, hard and sharp and down.

++

Sam looked up from the book he was reading, having decided to stay in the neutral territory of his room until Dean and Cas fell back to their corners or sorted their shit out, when the lights flickered.

He heard it a second later, the sound carrying easily through the corridors.

A sharp cry of pain, and Sam knew of only one person who affected the electricity when he was hurt.

Sam threw the book down and ran out into the corridor. He’d heard Cas’s room door opening and closing just after the fight, and he shouldered it open, ready for whatever was in there hurting his brother.

He wasn’t ready for that to be Dean.

Cas was tugging his wing free from Dean, who was trying to hold on to it, babbling an apology as he made an attempt to keep the wing in place so he could check it out.

“Stop it!” Cas yelled. “Just let it go!”

Dean relinquished his hold as if the wing was on fire, and shuffled back. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“What the hell?” Sam demanded. “What happened? Cas, are you okay?”

The answer to that was clearly no, as Cas sank down on the bed again, and carefully pulled his wing around so he could run his wings through it. The appendage was shivering, and Sam could see a whole bundle of the feathers on it were displaced; some even seemed to be half plucked.

But the angel simply shook his head. Okay, he wasn’t going to find out anything there.

“Dean?”

Dean looked at him, and he looked both ashamed and furious at the same time.

“I…. Dammit, if you’d just listened.”

Sam groaned; nobody could go onto the offensive like Dean, especially when he was in the wrong.

“So because you couldn’t get your way, you cuffed my wing? Who showed you how to do that? Who told you that you could?”

Dean backed up, hands held up in surrender, and then he turned and pushed past Sam as he left the room.

Sam waited until he was gone before carefully approaching the angel. Cas was tenderly stroking his wing, trying to smooth down the feathers, but Sam could tell it hurt.

“Can I help?”

Cas shook his head. “The loose ones will need to come out, but…. He shouldn’t have done that.”

Sam still wasn’t sure what Dean had done, but he could guess. He just didn’t know why: why the hell Dean had thought it would be okay. To do something that would so obviously cause Cas pain, though Sam could sense it was more than just that.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Embarrassment tinged Cas’s cheeks. Once more, he shook his head. “No. Thank you, Sam, but…. Could you leave me alone, please?”

_Dammit, Dean_. Sam nodded, and started backing towards the door. “Okay. But if you need, anything, Cas….”

He closed the door over behind him, and went in search of his idiot big brother.

++

By the time Dean reached the war room, Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. Fucking figured. 

The next time he saw that asshole, Dean was going to make sure there were no more stunning resurrections. He’d off the son of a bitch for sure.

But since he wasn’t there right now for Dean to murder, he headed instead for the small cabinet in the corner where he’d put the bourbon, and grabbed a bottle and a glass.

By the time he’d sat down, and poured his second glass, Sam was standing over him.

“What the hell did you do, Dean?”

Dean drained the glass, and was about to pour another when Sam snatched the bottle away. “No. Answer me.”

“What the fuck do you think I did, Sam? I was just trying to get him to listen.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Did you hurt him?”

Dean huffed. He could tell Sam knew the answer already, but wanted his big brother to tell him something different. A convincing lie.

“Yeah,” he said. He held out his hand, expectantly, but Sam thumped the bottle down out of reach.

Sam sat down next to him. “Why?”

“Why?” Dean glared at him. Like it mattered _why_?

“Don’t expect me to believe you _meant_ to hurt him, Dean. So something got fucked up in there, and you’re going to tell me what.”

So Dean did. He told Sam about the fight, which Sam already knew since he’d been there for the start, and heard the end. He told him about Gabriel’s sudden appearance, and how the archangel had coaxed the whole sorry story out of him, and then he told Sam about Gabriel's fabulous fucking advice.

“He said it kind of…. You now, brought ‘stubborn little angels’ around. Like, when they were fledglings. Said Cas had it done to him a lot.”

Sam didn’t want to point out the obvious, but…. “Dean, you get that Cas isn’t a fledgling, right?”

Dean glared at him. “Yes, Sammy, I know he’s not a baby angel. But Gabriel said...That fucking dick, I should have known, I bet he did this on purpose. Gabriel said it worked on all angels, because they remembered having it done as kids. He said it was like a dog grabbing her pup by the scruff and giving it a little shake to show it when it’d done wrong.”

Sam was stunned into silence for a few moments. He didn’t want to know what state Dean had been in to think that doing that to Cas had been a good idea, and he wasn’t sure if Gabriel had been fucking with them when he suggested it to Dean...he had to have known what a shitstorm it’d turn into...or if he'd genuinely thought Dean grabbing Cas by the wing would help.

But from the look of it, Dean had done a little more than grab.

“New rule,” Sam said. “You do not go asking Gabriel for advice on how to ‘show Cas when he’s done something wrong’.”

“And when he’s trying to get himself killed again by jumping between us and a bullet?

Sam thumped the table, angrily. “No. No justifying this, Dean. Next new rule: you two are going to talk things like this out. Not yell, not argue, not score points off each other. Actually talk. Tell each other where you’re coming from and why.”

It seemed like he might as well have been talking to the table, though, because Dean was rolling the glass between his hands, a distant look on his face.

Then, finally, he said, “I screwed up, huh.”

Sam wished he could say otherwise, but nothing would be gained by downplaying this for his brother.

“If Cas came in here, and put you over his knee, and beat the shit out of your ass, how would you feel? ‘Cos I don’t know much about this fledgling-rearing tip Gabriel gave you, but it kind of sounds like that.”

“Right.” Dean stood up, pushing the chair back, and heading over to the stacks. He turned around, and he had one of the first aid kits in his hands. They had several dotted around the bunker, because you just never knew, and there was one in the each place specially designed for Cas.

“Okay,” Sam said, and then Dean headed back towards Cas’s bedroom.

Sam grabbed his brother’s glass, poured himself a fair measurement, and gulped it down.

“You going to hide back there forever?”

Gabriel came out from behind one of the stacks, and took the seat Dean had vacated.

“So I probably should have told him it was always Raphael and Michael doing that to Cas.”

“Ahuh.”

“And I probably should have told him it wasn’t always when he was out of line, you know? I mean, he was out of line _to them_ but…”

“Gabriel.”

The archangel shut up.

“Dean’ll make this right. And it had to get worse for it to get better; those two can’t make it too easy on themselves. Just...don’t _help_ them make it worse, okay?”

“Guess Dean’s not the only person with something to make up to my baby brother, huh.”

Sam refilled the glass, and shoved it across to the archangel. It wouldn’t have much effect on him, but it was the thought that counted.

“Might want to let Dean do it first.”


End file.
